


A Cellist and His Instrument

by deirdre_aithne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 16:43:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deirdre_aithne/pseuds/deirdre_aithne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Have you ever watched yourself play that ruddy thing, Neville?  Merlin, if I could trade places with it for one of your performances, I would."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cellist and His Instrument

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 run of hpvalensmut on LJ. While not a song-fic in any form, there was a song that I had on repeat while writing most of this, which can be found here: _[Moonlight](http://youtu.be/DRVvFYppU0w) performed by Steven Sharp_. Consider it... mood music? Lots of love and my eternal adoration to lorcalon for the beta work – I would be lost without you, my dear.

"Absolutely brilliant!"

"Moving, as always."

As he paused in the hallway, Draco resisted the desire to roll his eyes at the voices wafting through the dressing room door. After six months of listening to it regularly, he'd learned to accept it as one of the things that simply went hand in hand with seeing Neville- along with the unannounced visits from Potter, Lovegood, and a myriad of other war heroes that Neville remained close to. Lovegood, at least, was tolerable. More than tolerable, considering that she'd been responsible for dragging Draco along to 'meet' Neville months earlier. Had she told him outright who the famous cellist playing at the gala that night had been, Draco couldn't be sure he'd have even gone, but it had proven worthwhile in the end.

Unlike the vultures clamouring for Neville's attention now, he hadn't babbled words of praise and fawned at Neville's feet at the end of the performance. He _had_ made a visit backstage to congratulate him on what had actually been a heart-wrenching concert, but he had also made a move to leave immediately after. It had been Neville who had stopped him, laying a gentle hand on his arm as Draco turned away. Neville had asked him for a drink. It had been so unexpected that Draco really hadn't been able to muster up any response other than to nod, looking rather dumbfounded, and then stepped out to inform Lovegood not to wait for him.

If she was capable of looking smug at all, she certainly had the following morning when he arrived at their shared office in the Department of Mysteries wearing the same dress robes he'd worn out the night before.

"Such a lovely performance, Mr Longbottom, really."

Draco arched an eyebrow as he opened the dressing room door, watching Neville flush and stammer awkwardly as a gaggle of swooning women crowded around him with matching, seductive smiles. One had reached out, trying to caress his hand, crooning something about his agile fingers, while another went on about how sensitive he must be, playing such emotional music. Neville made every effort to be polite, returning their smiles, although his was a bit more uncomfortable, and gently but determinedly pulling his hands away from them. As entertaining as it was to watch him drowning so spectacularly in the face of his admirers- when he was otherwise so composed and _aggressive_ \- Draco cleared his throat to capture his, and the women's, attention.

"Draco." Neville made no effort to mask his relief at seeing him in the doorway, his usual confidence easing back into his demeanour as he smiled again at the women around him. "If you ladies would excuse us?"

The women exchanged annoyed glances with each other, pursing their lips and offering Neville a series of curt nods as they strode out of the room with their chins tipped up. It took all of Draco's self-control not to laugh as each of them passed by him on their way out, the one that had been attempting to touch Neville's hands shooting him a disdainful glance. He offered her his own smile before stepping into the room and promptly closing the door behind himself.

"So sorry to interrupt you when you're with your adoring public, love," he said as he moved towards Neville, his smile widening when Neville rolled his eyes.

"I thought women went for blokes who play _sexy_ instruments?"

Draco arched an eyebrow at him in a dubious expression, stepping up to Neville and twining his arms around his neck. "Have you ever watched yourself play that ruddy thing, Neville? Merlin, if I could trade places with it for one of your performances, I would."

"You want to be my cello?" Neville asked flatly. Draco shrugged.

"I'm quite happy as your boyfriend, actually, but as a back-up option, yes." He smiled and brought one hand down to trail over Neville's chest through his suit. "I think I would enjoy being your cello for a night. You are rather... intensely focussed on it when you play."

Neville's arms wrapped around Draco's waist as he spoke, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Am I?" Leaning in, Neville brushed his lips against Draco's jaw, parting them as he moved to Draco's neck and teased his tongue against his pulse point. "And you want me to _play_ you like that, Draco?"

His only answer was a soft hum of agreement, and Neville nipped at Draco's neck as he backed him towards the nearest wall. Draco's breath hitched as his back was pressed against the unforgiving surface and Neville's body pressed against _him_ , pinning him in place. The silver-grey of his eyes darkened as he watched Neville remove his tie, bringing his hands up to help with the buttons on his shirt and furrowing his brow when Neville's hands caught his wrists.

"I've got something better in mind, love," was all Neville said as he guided Draco's arms together in front of him, circling the tie around his wrists and pulling it snug, binding them together.

"You know, most people would have put my arms behind my back for that," Draco pointed out, giving Neville a curious look. "Not restricting movement too much, having them in front of me."

Neville smiled, leaning in until his lips hovered against Draco's, murmuring against them, "I told you, Draco – I have something in mind." Before Draco could reply, Neville claimed his mouth in a kiss, coaxing his lips open with his tongue and pressing closer to him. The kiss was slow, but full of heat, leaving both of them panting softly for breath when they separated.

A small shiver rippled through Draco as Neville's mouth moved to his neck again, pressing open-mouthed kisses against his flesh. Bucking his hips up to grind against him, he elicited a low moan from Neville and smiled, repeating the action.

"Want something, Neville?" he asked, flushing at the breathless note to his voice. Without lifting his face from his neck, Neville answered.

" _You_. Right here, against this wall."

Draco drew in a measured breath, letting it out with a groan as he arched up into Neville again. "I'm all yours..."

This time, Neville pulled back, looking as flushed as Draco felt, and gently gripped his hips. "Turn for me, then," he instructed, already turning Draco towards the wall. "Hands up over your head, and bend forward a bit."

Draco obeyed without hesitation, twisting around to look at Neville over his shoulder. Neville smiled at him as he drew his wand, removing their clothes with a quick flick of his wrist. He conjured lubricant with another wave of his wand and used it to slick his fingers, pressing himself against Draco's hip and kissing his neck as he prepared him.

Breathing hard, Draco dropped his head forward to rest against the wall, letting his eyes drift closed with a steady hum of pleasure as Neville's fingers worked him open. When they brushed against his prostate, his breath caught in his throat, and he felt Neville smile against his neck. Almost too soon, the fingers were withdrawn, quickly replaced with Neville's prick pressing against his entrance. A low moan slipped from Draco's lips as Neville entered him with one, slow thrust, sliding his hands over his sides.

He hardly noticed their path as Neville rocked his hips behind him until one hand curled around his bound wrists to hold them. There was no pressure, only the light touch of Neville's hand resting there, barely gripping him. Draco opened his mouth to speak – to ask what he was doing – but the question faltered on his lips as Neville's other hand found its way to his erection.

Draco tipped his head back against Neville's shoulder as that hand moved over him, the grip much firmer than the other hand, though still light, teasing over his shaft in time with Neville's steady thrusts into him.

"Do you like the way I play you, Draco?" Neville asked against his neck, once again pressing kisses to his flesh and working a path up to his jaw. At first, Draco's brow furrowed as he struggled to decipher Neville's meaning through his haze of arousal, before the last coherent parts of his mind clicked the pieces of the puzzle into place.

The hold on his arms, and the way Neville had twined himself around Draco's body to cradle him close to his own... Draco had watched him hold his cello a hundred times as he practised and performed – one hand curled loosely around the neck of the instrument, body half wrapped around it as he played, while his other hand slid the bow smoothly back and forth across the strings.

Smiling, Draco turned his head against Neville's shoulder, his lips brushing against the corner of Neville's mouth in the new position. " _Yes_ ," he whispered, pressing himself back into Neville with another moan. "You know I do, Neville."

There were no more words, then, as they continued to move together; only the steady sound of their breathing, interspersed with quiet moans of pleasure when they found the perfect angle, and soft groans when Neville's teeth scraped against Draco's shoulder. Neville's hand on Draco's wrists slid down along one arm and up over the other, caressing him just as the other hand continued to stroke along Draco's shaft with each movement of his hips. Draco's head lolled against his shoulder, his head tipped to the side to bare his throat for Neville's mouth.

When Draco began to writhe between his body and the wall, Neville pressed deeper into him, maintaining the same steady rhythm. The hand moving along his cock increased in pace, and Draco keened in pleasure, turning his face towards Neville's for a kiss as he neared the edge. Just as Neville claimed his lips, he came, moaning into the kiss and returning it fiercely. Neville's pace never quickened as he moved inside him, but both of his hands dropped down to Draco's waist, wrapping around him to keep him upright. After a moment, Neville came with a final thrust into Draco, cradling him back against his chest and never breaking away from the kiss.

They remained in that position until their breathing began to steady and the floor felt solid beneath Draco's feet again. Neville pulled the tie from Draco's wrists silently, bringing them to his lips and brushing a kiss to each before releasing him. As Draco turned to face him, he found himself gently pushed against the wall once more as Neville pressed another kiss to his lips. He drew away a second later, smiling at Draco and caressing his cheek with one hand.

"I think I like you as my cello," he murmured softly, drawing a chuckle out of Draco. Neville's smile widened into a grin as Draco's arms wound around his neck to pull him closer, their foreheads resting together as Draco toyed with the hair at the back of his neck with a fond smile.

"I still rather enjoy being your boyfriend. Seeing as you own many _actual_ cellos. I'm not sure this version of playing would be so welcomed on stage."

Neville laughed, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist to pull him flush against his chest. "Perhaps not. But so long as I can play you in private, I'm okay with that."


End file.
